


Precarious

by pressedinthepages



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Comfort Sex, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, sad bard times, the mountain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:26:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27551500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pressedinthepages/pseuds/pressedinthepages
Summary: Jaskier is in dire need after the events of the dragon hunt.
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	Precarious

**Author's Note:**

> Reader Request [Your Jaskier stories 🙌🏻 they're so good!! Can I pls make a request for some insecure Jaskier?? Maybe reader travels with them and his kinda with Jask already, but after seeing Geralt shout at him, (after the dragon), she leaves with him cos she's worried. She didn't hear what Geralt said, so during the trip to the nearest inn, she's just trying to talk to him but by the time they get a room he's a mess. Asking whether he ruins everything he touches and just brings shit onto people like Geralt said 😭 and reader shows him how loved he is.....theeen some nice loving smut as a cherry on top pls 😂🤞 You really capture his dramatics and deep heart ❤️ he's a sensitive soul really! ❤️] <3 ooof its been a moment since ive written some angst...but here it is!

The breeze is cool on your face as you gaze over the mountains, so caught up in the majestic scenery that you nearly miss when Jaskier walks by. He looks lost, dazed as his nails dig into the worn leather of his lute case. His steps drag heavily across the ground as he approaches the head of the trail. Jaskier turns at the last second, his eyes searching the clearing until they land on you, shining with unshed tears. 

You rush to his side, not even bothering to look behind you. You set your hand on his shoulder and look up at him, trying desperately to reach him in that emotionless void. “Jaskier?”

He says nothing, which is worrying in and of itself. Jaskier’s hair flops in his eyes as he nods resolutely, beginning the steps that will take him down the mountain. You glance behind you, seeing only the remaining few members of the expedition mulling about the clearing with no sign of Geralt or Yennefer. With a deep breath in, you turn on your heel to follow in Jaskier’s wake.

The whole trip down is completed in near silence, a suffocating vigil that is only rarely interspersed with the idea to rest for the evening. You can see Jaskier still trying to stop and take in the beauty around him, but it never lasts long. Soon enough, he wilts like a flower falling from a vase and turns back to the trail.

You try to help, but it’s clear that Jaskier isn’t quite ready to discuss what has been eating away at his mind. He bites his tongue and curls in on himself, even shying away from you when you sit around the fire at night. One night though, probably the last before you make it back down to Caingorn, you hesitantly reach out and take his hand, bringing his eyes up to you.

“Jaskier, is it something that I did?”

Jaskier swallows thickly, shaking his head. “No, my love. You’ve done so much more for me than I deserve.”

His voice trails off at the end and he looks back down, closing himself off. You scoot closer and take Jaskier in your arms, letting him lay heavily against you. You press your lips to the top of his head and fight to hold back your own tears, needing so desperately to hear that sweet humming that so often accompanies your love. The two of you fall asleep like this, staving off emotions too big to handle alone. 

Rain pours from the sky the entire next day, leaving you both soaked and cold to the core as you stumble into town. Thankfully there is an inn nearby, and the two of you move frantically towards it. Your boots splash through the mud as you approach and you make sure to kick off as much as you can before pushing open the door. 

You approach the innkeeper, who offers a reduced rate for the room in exchange for a night of entertainment from Jaskier. You turn her down though, sliding the higher amount of coin across the table, along with enough for a warm bath. She hands you a key, as well as an armful of cloth so that you may dry off. 

You return to Jaskier’s side and offer a small smile, pulling him carefully up the stairs to the bedroom. The two of you systematically remove your packs and cloaks, draping the sopping fabric over a chair next to the fire so it has a chance to dry. You grab Jaskier by the hand once more, the two of you kicking off your boots before you pull him back out of the room and towards the bathing room at the end of the hall. 

The air is already thick with warmth, settling on your skin and deep in your lungs. You see the tub sitting strong in the middle of the room, water high to the edge and threatening to spill out. “Let’s get you warm, Jaskier.”

He nods, still biting his tongue as he fiddles with the clasps at his wrists. You reach out and undo the buttons yourself, pressing a soft kiss to the exposed inside of his wrist. His doublet is cool under your fingers as you slide it open, your lips moving up to the tender skin over his collarbone peeks from underneath his chemise. The doublet gets carefully folded and set aside before your hands return, pushing up the hem of Jaskier’s chemise and stroking the warm skin that you find there. 

Jaskier draws in a deep breath as you trace lazy patterns over his stomach and around his back, his own hands finding your waist. You push the shirt up over his head and set it aside as well, and Jaskier rests his forehead on yours with a sigh. His trousers are next, the buttons quickly undone before they hit the floor, followed soon after by his smallclothes. 

Jaskier’s hands, still chilled from the rain that pounds over the roof, toy with the hem of your tunic before you push them away. His eyes find yours, full of worry and sadness. “Not now, love. Let me help you, please,” you whisper, pressing your hand to his neck and feeling the fluttering of his pulse beneath your fingers. 

He does not argue before stepping back, turning to climb into the bath. Warm water spills over the edge as he sinks deep, plunging his head underneath so his teeth chatter with the quite sudden temperature change. You find the oils and soaps set on a small stool near the bath. You move them so that you can sit on the stool behind Jaskier, the little glass bottles resting on the floor next to you. 

You find one that smells of rosemary and citrus, a bright scent in great contrast to the bard before you. Your fingers find his scalp, running in soft circles that press into his temples. In the stifling absence, you begin to hum. Jaskier turns his head at the sound, listening as your voice meanders through melodies. When his hair is sufficiently clean, you smooth your hands down the line of his neck and over his shoulders, trying to squeeze warmth back into the tense muscles.

Jaskier relaxes bit by bit as you scoot around to face him, washing down his arm and intertwining his fingers with yours. You dance over his knuckles and a couple of little scars that decorate the back of his hand, picked up from decades on the Path. Jaskier suddenly ducks back under the water, rinsing away the final evidence of the road and the rain. 

He gasps as he comes back up, still holding tight to your hand. You brace yourself, knowing now is the time to ask, to draw him out. “Jaskier,” you murmur, “please, my love. What happened?”

Jaskier’s chest breaks with a sob and you squeeze his hand even tighter. “I-it’s my fault, really,” he whispers, “I pushed too hard, and I ruined it…”

“Ruined what, Jaskier?”

He looks away, his lip wobbling with every breath. “Geralt. H-he was trying to tell me to leave him be, but I didn’t listen,  _ I never listen.  _ And, then he bade me my leave.”

You shake your head, waiting for him to continue. “He said that-that if life could give him one blessing,  _ one bloody thing,  _ it would be to take me off of his hands.”

Your eyes widen and the grip you have on Jaskier’s hand turns sharp. Tears run freely down Jaskier’s cheeks, his eyes rimmed red and his heart worn raw. “I figured that leaving would be the kindest thing I could do, at least for him.”

“Jaskier,” you breathe, surging forward without care for the state of your clothes. “Oh, my love. I am  _ so sorry,  _ you don’t deserve that. You have spent half of your life dedicated to him, trying to make his life better. And this is what you get in return?”

You wrap your arms around his neck as he sobs into your shoulder, holding him close as he works through it. Water soaks through at your stomach and thighs where they press against the tub, but you couldn’t care less. 

“I promise you, Jaskier,” you run your fingers slowly through his still-damp hair, “you are a treasure. And if Geralt can’t see that, well. He doesn’t deserve your kindness.”

Jaskier sniffles against your neck, “But he’s my  _ friend.  _ He was my friend, and I just kept  _ pushing-” _

__ “He lashed out, love,” you murmur, “it’s no excuse, but there were just too many feelings and he got overwhelmed. He probably already regrets it.”

Jaskier nods, still holding fast to your waist. You can feel his fingers rubbing the soft fabric of your shirt back and forth. You sit like this for a long while, the bathwater turning cold as the moon begins to climb into the sky. 

Jaskier starts to fidget though, his hands unable to stay still and his nose brushing up the length of your neck. You pull away, catching the glint that has finally returned to those glorious blue eyes. 

“It would be a shame for all of this bath to go to waste, my dear.” Jaskier’s voice is still thin, but with his usual vigor quickly returning. “Why don’t you join me?”

He winks and purses his lips, begging for a kiss. You chuckle, relieved to see him returning to himself. You lean down and press your lips together chastely, letting him grumble a bit when you move back. “You are incorrigible, darling,” you laugh, “and you are sorely mistaken if you think that I’m about to get into that filthy, freezing water.”

Jaskier pouts, turning his eyes all big and sad, but now because you won’t climb into the bath. You smile, getting up to grab one of the big cloths. “Here, love. Let’s get you dry, and then we can go back to the room.”

Jaskier huffs good-naturedly as he stands, the water cascading off of him in fast rivulets. He is half-hard as he walks over to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek as you start to rub the dry cloth over his skin. “Thank you, my dear. For everything.”

“Always, Jaskier. Always.”

The two of you walk hand in hand back down the hallway, Jaskier holding his clothes beneath his free arm. He chucks them aside as soon as you close the bedroom door behind you, sweeping you into his grasp. His lips find your neck and he starts to nibble and lick at the tender skin. 

_ “Oh,”  _ you breathe as he finally,  _ finally,  _ starts to hum again. It’s teasing, a saucy song that only ever gets sung while half-drunk in a run-down tavern in the middle of nowhere. The sheet falls to the ground as Jaskier pulls your tunic over your head, casting it to the side. He kisses down to your breasts as he pulls your belt open, pushing your trousers down frantically and squeezing your behind as you step out of them. 

“Go lay on the bed, love,” he whispers, his eyes dark and lusty. You do as he says, leaning back against the soft pillows. Jaskier moves to the edge of the bed slowly before climbing atop you. The hairs on his chest tickle the sensitive skin of your breasts as he presses down to kiss you deeply. His tongue snakes into your mouth and you feel his length push hard into your hip.

"Please, Jaskier," you moan, threading your fingers into his hair. His forehead rests against yours as he glances down, taking himself in hand and lining up with your cunt. He presses in slowly, pulling a low groan from both of your chests. Your walls clench around him as he buries himself deep in your core. Beads of sweat start to dot his temples and your nails dig little crescents into his arms.

_ “Ah, fuck,”  _ Jaskier groans, finding your lips once more as he starts to shallowly thrust his hips. Your core burns with the sensation, stealing your breath with each snap of his hips. Heat crawls up your stomach and settles high in your chest as you hook your ankles around Jaskier’s hips. 

“Jaskier, I love you so much,” you whisper, and Jaskier whimpers into where he worries a love bite into your neck. “I would move the sun and the stars if you were to only ask. And I know that you would do the same for me.”

Jaskier’s pace falters as he readjusts, pushing up onto his elbows to look at you properly. His mouth hangs agape as he slowly rolls his hips, hitting deep in your core. You wrap a hand to hold the nape of his neck, pulling him down to you. You meet his hips at every thrust, reveling in the feeling of Jaskier pressed so impossibly close against you. 

Your climax washes over you like a steady tide, a breath held in before a much-needed exhale. Jaskier follows in the same heartbeat, his cock spending deep inside of you as he gasps your name. 

The two of you stay like this for a while, only adjusting when you start to clench from oversensitivity. Jaskier rolls over and pulls you with him, both of you laying on your sides facing each other. He slides his elbow beneath your head and you wind your arm around his waist, touching each other in as many places as possible.

“I meant it, Jask,” you murmur as sleep tugs at the strands of your mind, “I love you more than anything else. I need you to know that.”

Jaskier yawns with a smile, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. “I know, my dear. And I love you so exorbitantly much that it almost hurts. But it is the sweetest pain one could ever have the great pleasure of feeling. And I would gladly feel it to the end of my days, at your side.”

“And there is nowhere that I would rather you be.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading :) you can find me on tumblr @pressedinthepages


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